Shattered Perfection
by the story of a girl
Summary: SEASON 2 SPOILERS! Deals with Bree's developing drinking problem. She reaches her breaking point without even realizing it, and though she needs all the support she can get, she also needs to settle some of her issues on her own. R.R please.
1. Chapter 1

**Shattered Perfection**

_Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away. _

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

**Chapter 1**

It was a fairly typical night. The air still, the stars dim, the moon dull. Aside from the few streetlamps that lined the road, there was very little light shed on Wisteria Lane. In fact, if one were to look down the quiet street, they would see nothing more than a pattern of dark houses. However, there was a light beaming from one particular home; that of Bree Van de Kamp.

Bree was roaming around her kitchen with a full glass of wine, occasionally bumping into any piece of furniture that was in her way. She had a ridiculous fight with her son earlier in the evening which caused him to storm out. She hadn't a clue where he went, but assumed that he was with the boy she had forbidden from entering her home. Danielle, on the other hand, claimed to be sleeping at a friend's house, though Bree doubted her story too. Her children were not very good liars.

The redhead could not remember how many drinks she had throughout the night. She, being a well-educated woman, knew the legal alcohol limit. She also knew when 'enough was enough'. Yet she wouldn't allow herself to stop drinking until her body felt completely numb, and unfortunately there was still a small amount of pain which lived inside her. No matter how much she had to drink, the pain would never completely disappear.

"Stop." Bree scolded herself. "You don't need this," she swung the half empty bottle of wine in front her face. "It isn't doing any…whoops!" she exclaimed, spilling a dash of wine on her already stained beige nightgown. She pathetically attempted to blot the stain. Multi-tasking, however, was not the best idea considering Bree's mental state. While trying to wipe out the stain, she clumsily dropped the entire bottle of wine on her immaculate kitchen floor.

Bree watched the bottle shatter into a million pieces, and was lucky that she didn't cut herself with the glass. Immediately, out of instinct, she bent down to pick up the pieces. However, she soon realized that all her years of cleaning up every mess she made did absolutely nothing for her. She stared at the broken glass in front of her, and rather than cleaning, she picked up a fairly large bowl, throwing it to the floor as well.

After taking a long, deep breath, Bree opened up her kitchen cabinet, reaching for whatever she could get her hands on, and smashing it onto the floor. It was at this moment that Bree felt as if she had stepped outside of herself. The little bit of rationale left in her mind allowed her conscience to essentially watch from afar. She saw a woman shattering bowls, plates, and glasses all over the floor and could not even recognize who it was. All she knew was that this woman had reached a dangerous stage of unhappiness. Although it would appear as if such destructive behavior would not have any benefits, the pain which the wine could not alleviate, did seem to slightly lessen.

Bree reached for a large dinner plate, "I put meals on the table for you every night of your life, Andrew!" she screamed, slamming the plate onto the cold floor. She then reached for a bowl, "…and I _trusted _you. You made me believe in you." she began speaking to George Williams. "And Rex." she managed to mutter, reaching for another plate, "…you left me here with nothing." and with that, she shattered the last plate she could reach.

The redhead stared at the mess she made, and as soon as she felt a drop of warmth trailing down her left cheek, she left the room and collapsed onto the couch. She did not cry, she simply sat down for about 10 minutes. She couldn't think about what she did because her mind was racing in far too many directions. She focused herself on a family portrait, and when that became to much to bear, she stood up and looked into the kitchen. Upon seeing the mess she made, Bree did something that she never would have done had she been sober. She reached for the telephone, and dialed the first number which was on speed dial, preparing to ask for help.

Lynette Scavo grimaced as she heard the phone ringing in her bedroom. It was about 2 am, and although she did not have to wake up for work the next day, she treasured the little sleep she could get. She groggily reached past Tom who, as she put it, could sleep through an earthquake.

"Hello." her voice was scratchy as she answered the phone.

"Oh. Hi, Lynette!" Bree felt a sense of comfort when her neighbor answered the phone. "Did you know you're the first person on my speed dial?"

"Bree?" the blonde was slightly confused as to why Bree would be calling her in the middle of the night. "Are you okay?"  
"I… made a little meth." she chuckled, "Oh, heavens no! I mean mess. I made a mess." It was fairly obvious that Bree had too much to drink.

"What are you talking about?" Lynette was in no mood for this. "Have you been drinking?"

"No, no, no. I don't drink. I was just wondering if you could help me clean up." her voice trailed off.

"Now? Bree, it's 2 a.m. Go to sleep. I'll help you in the morning." and with that, Lynette hung up the phone.

"Hello?…Hello?" Bree continued speaking into the phone. "Fine. I'll just do it myself then", but as she went to find the dustpan that was hidden somewhere in her home, she made a quick stop and passed out on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The following morning Lynette made a quick trip across the street to check on her neighbor as she had promised. The blonde gently knocked on the door. No response. She knocked again, this time with a bit more force. "Bree?", she called from the outside. Still no answer. Finally, she opened the door herself. "Hey, its me!" she shouted. Lynette slowly made her way through the entrance of Bree's home. Everything seemed to be in perfect order until she caught a glimpse of the kitchen. Broken dishes were scattered across the floor, the whole room in shambles.

"What the…" Lynette mumbled to herself. "Bree!" she began to grow worried. However, before she had the chance to make herself crazy, she found her good friend and neighbor still fast asleep on the couch in the family room. Her hair was uncombed, her face pale, and her nightgown stained. Lynette also took notice to a few drops of dried blood on Bree's hands, likely from an attempt to pick up pieces of broken glass.

Lynette gently approached the redhead, not wanting to startle her. She nudged her arm, causing Bree to stir. Yet rather than opening her eyes, she simply shifted positions in order to avoid Lynette. "Hey…no, no. You need to wake up, Bree." She sounded as if she were trying to get one of her children out of bed.

Bree squinted. "Lynette? What…what are you doing in my house?" She was clearly confused. She tried to sit up, grimacing from the shooting pain in her head. "What time is it?"

"Around 10:30. And just to answer your question, you told me to be here."

"What are you talking about? I haven't spoken to you in a couple days." Bree replied, massaging her temples.

"Actually, you called me around 2 a.m. asking if I could help you 'clean up' a mess you had made." there was a pang of frustration in Lynette's voice, though it was overpowered by her growing concern.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a lot of things to do today and I've already overslept. So if you could just be on your way..."

"Okay." Lynette backed off, "But before I go, why don't you try and make yourself breakfast."

**"**Lynette, I'm not all that hungry."

"Go make yourself breakfast, Bree."

"Lynette!" she was not in the mood to tolerate her neighbor's attitude.

"Do it." her voice was stern.

Bree obeyed her friend, slowing rising from the couch. "Fine. I don't know what your problem is today, but I really don't appreciate it!" She felt achy, dizzy, and a bit faint as well. She had absolutely no appetite, and breakfast was probably the last thing on her mind. Bree approached the kitchen, and as soon as she caught her first glimpse at the disaster area that it had become, she simply froze. She didn't scream, she just stood there, eyes wide, staring at the mess.

Lynette came behind her. "Do you want to explain what happened here?" she asked gently, no longer showing signs of anger.

Bree could barely speak. "I…I don't. Andrew? Did he do this?"

"You really don't know?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't do something like this!" the redhead grew offensive.

"Okay, okay. Why don't you sit down and tell me what you remember from last night." Lynette led her fragile friend to the closest seat.

"Well," Bree desperately tried to recollect the happenings of the previous night. Unfortunately, her mind was drawing a blank. "I don't know."

Although Lynette wanted to believe her, it was relatively obvious that Bree was hiding something. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"Whoever said I needed help?"

"Bree. Not now. Tell me what happened."

After a brief hesitation, Bree began. "Andrew and I had a fight. He said he hated me which, mind you, is nothing new. I think he enjoys making me feel like the most monstrous woman alive. So he stormed out of here and went-" she paused, glancing across the room. "Lord knows where."

"I'm so sorry." Lynette's voice was incredibly sympathetic.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your doing, and he isn't your son."

Lynette just shook her head. "Do you remember what happened next?"

"No.", and although she very easily could have been lying, Lynette saw the painful truth which lurked within Bree's eyes.

"Well, I think I know what might have gone on here. You were very upset, and rightfully so! You had a little too much to drink, and then something set you off, leading you to basically destroy your kitchen."

"Lynette, I was not drinking last night." Bree attempted to fight an uphill battle. "I wasn't."

And though Lynette knew the truth of Bree's behavior, she also saw a few tears lingering deep inside her friend's bright eyes. "Okay. I believe you." she replied. "Lets clean up this mess then."

Bree silently nodded. "I'm just going to change first, alright?"

"Sure."

And as Bree headed upstairs, she looked down and saw the traces of blood on her hands. She had been drinking too much and she knew it. She stared down at her stained palms and whispered, "…innocent until proven guilty."


	3. Chapters 3 and 4

**Chapter 3**

The two women eventually managed to clean up the kitchen, and fortunately Bree still had many dishes to spare. She hoped that the entire event would go unnoticed, but to ensure that her erratic behavior would stay a secret, Bree made Lynette promise not to speak of what she had seen.

"Don't ruin this for me." she pleaded before Lynette left her home.

"Listen, Bree. I'm not going to go around telling the world that there were broken dishes in your house. Honestly, I have better things to do with my time. I just don't understand what I would be 'ruining' for you."

"I don't want to lose what I've worked so hard for. A lot of things have happened, and it seems like everyone is just waiting for me to breakdown. It's like they want to see me fail. I need to prove that I can keep myself together." And with those few words, Bree had just confirmed that she had been drinking. Although Lynette already knew this, her thoughts were now entirely justified. "I want to be recognized as the strong person that I am."

"You mean perfect."

"Excuse me?"

Lynette shook her head, disappointed that even after all Bree had been through over the past year, she was still stuck on her image of perfection. "Nothing. Listen, I'm not going to say anything. We'll just pretend this never happened, okay?"

"Thank you." Bree smiled, closing the door behind her.

**Chapter 4**

Lynette kept her promise. She never breathed a word about the incident to anyone. Bree viewed her as a good friend for doing this, but Lynette faced an internal struggle. She desperately wanted to help her neighbor, rather than pretend that she didn't have a problem. Over the next few weeks she saw that Bree was consistently getting worse. The physical signs were the most obvious. Her eyes were glassy, and no matter what time it was, she always looked exhausted. Yet somehow Gabby and Susan didn't seem to notice a thing. Or perhaps they too simply pretended not to.

Bree, however, faced much more of a struggle than any of her friends. She could no longer make it through the day without a drink. She didn't see herself as an alcoholic, because in her mind she didn't depend on alcohol. She just used it when needed, which happened to be a number of times each day.

Rather than drinking her problems away, she easily could have tried talking to a friend. But she was much to stubborn to do something like that. At this point she wasn't even avoiding the fact that she had a weakness…she was ashamed of who and what she had become. Alcoholism can be interpreted as the 'easy way out' and Bree did not want anyone to think that she had it easy. She refused to fall prey to their judgment, so she isolated herself, knowing that no one could possibly understand her the way she could understand herself.

A few weeks after the initial 'kitchen episode', Bree, Gabrielle, Susan, and Lynette all congregated in Bree's home for a few rounds of poker. As usual, each woman was expected to talk about her day for a few minutes, and gossip for a few hours.

"You know what I heard," Susan began. She always seemed to talk the most, dishing the dirt on practically everyone who ever walked by a road sign for Wisteria Lane. She carried on for quite some time, rambling about who is sleeping who, along with the recent noises she's heard coming from the Applewhite's house. It was alright for a little while, but Bree was losing her patience with every passing second. She wouldn't have had any problem getting through the evening if she had a glass of wine, but she didn't want Lynette to be suspicious. So, while all of her friends had a drink, she simply had a glass of lemonade.

Susan spoke for a while longer, followed by Gabrielle who began to discuss the personal lives of other women on the street. Bree tried to concentrate on other things. She thought about the laundry that still needed to be done, and the plants that needed watering, but nothing seemed to help. Finally, she snapped.

"Do any of you girls realize how absolutely despicable your behavior is?" she questioned, staring directly at Susan while occasionally looking over at Gabrielle.

The two women exchanged glances, they had never heard Bree raise her voice. "Bree, is there a problem here?" Susan asked.

"We have been sitting around this table for almost an hour and 20 minutes, and all you seem to be concerned with is the lives of other people. I doubt anyone mentioned here tonight even gives you a second thought." Her tone was much too harsh. Subconsciously she was just frustrated because her friends seemed to care so much about people they didn't even know, and weren't the least bit concerned with her.

The three women looked remotely shocked. Bree usually enjoyed gossip just as much as they did. In fact, she often had the juiciest news. "Okay, then. I think we're done here. Thanks for a lovely evening, Bree. Really." Gabrielle muttered, as she quickly rose from her seat, leaving for the evening.

The redhead simply ignored her neighbor's exit, and tried to carry on with the game. "Well, are we going to finish this game or not?"

"You know, you seem um…really tired. Maybe I should just go." Susan began.

"Maybe." Bree responded. She was never one to basically kick someone out of her house, but she needed a drink and she didn't want anyone to be there.

"Are you okay?" Susan suddenly felt concerned.

"I'm perfectly fine, I just have a lot of housework to do. I'll speak with you tomorrow, Susan." Bree escorted her neighbor to the door, and then went back to the table and began cleaning up. She avoided the fact that Lynette, who had been silent throughout most of the evening, was still sitting there. Bree assumed that if she didn't bother to notice Lynette, she would have to leave. Unfortunately, Lynette was much too smart for Bree's elementary tactics…and much too good of a friend.

"I'm not going anywhere." she blatantly stated.

"I never said you had to." Bree replied, trying to avoid the amounting tension in the air.

"I'll help you clean up then." The conversation was dry. Lynette picked up a few glasses and leftover hors d'oeuvre platters. She washed a couple of utensils before beginning her 'interrogation'. "Bree, what just happened in there?"

"I thought everyone- well, mainly Gabby and Susan, were being incredibly childish, so I took it upon myself to put an end to their behavior."

"What are you even saying?"

"Lynette, please don't lecture me."

"I know you've been drinking." Lynette's face was stern. "I see it in the way you look, the way you've been acting…Bree, this isn't you."

Bree gave her neighbor a cold, hard stare. "I can't believe you sometimes. You think you know everything about me. Well, you don't. Please leave."

"I battled an addiction myself, I can help you." Lynette persisted.

"Addiction! Oh, now I have an addiction. Well isn't this refreshing. Sorry Lynette, but your ADD medication has nothing to do with me."

By this point, Lynette began to take offense from Bree's words. "Fine. You don't want my help? That's great. Less stress on my back. Deal with this whole thing on your own, I really don't care." Of course she didn't actually mean everything she said, but Lynette wasn't willing to tolerate Bree's attitude.


	4. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Bree reached for the wine as soon as Lynette was gone. She drank straight from the bottle, hoping to forget about her evening, and then went straight to bed.

The next few days progressed in a similar fashion. Bree and Lynette would not even look at one another, let alone speak. Bree intended to keep it this way for as long as possible. That is, until Thursday night rolled around.

Andrew came home around 9:30 from a friend's house. He was well aware that he was supposed to be home for dinner, but intentionally missed it anyway. When he walked through the door, Bree questioned him about his whereabouts.

"Andrew, where were you tonight? I prepared your favorite meal, and I had expected you to be here for it."

"Oh. I was out. Sorry." Andrew brushed off his mother.

"Don't you walk away from me. You're still living under my roof, which means that you abide by my rules."

"Not this again. Mom, I already told you. I'll do whatever I want, whenever I want."

Bree rose from the couch and walked toward her son. "If this is how you're going to behave, you shouldn't bother living here anymore. Go on, pack up your things, Andrew. You can live by your own rules somewhere else." Rather than trying to reason with her son, she essentially threw him out of the house.

Andrew laughed, shaking his head.

"Am I missing something?"

"No, it's just your breath, mom. You're completely wasted. You know, you probably won't even remember this conversation in a few hours. But don't worry I'll take your drunken decision to heart, and as soon as I can, I'll be out of here. You won't have to worry about me missing dinner ever again." and with that, he laughed to himself once more and headed upstairs.

Bree took a shaky breath, turning around to see the entire room spinning right in front of her eyes. She had another drink, thinking it would 'clear things up'. Of course this didn't work, nor did it make her feel even remotely better. Bree took another swig of wine, and after that didn't do anything, she threw the bottle onto the kitchen floor. She hoped it would provide her with some sort of relief…but it didn't.

Within a matter of seconds, Danielle came running down the stairs. "Mom, what was that noise?" she went into the kitchen. "What are you doing!" It was clear that she was much more annoyed than she was concerned.

"I…" Bree closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts in a logical manner. "I dropped the bottle of wine by accident. Maybe you would help me clean it up?"

Danielle just shook her head. "Your mess, not mine. Maybe if you didn't drink so much, you would be able to hold a bottle straight." Her words were cold and harsh; more than Bree could tolerate. She was trying to hold together a completely dysfunctional family and couldn't handle it anymore. Bree's anger was on the rise, and she actually considered reaching for another plate and smashing to the floor. Instead, however, she used the little sense she had left and realized that it was finally time for her to seek out help.

Bree left the shattered glass on the floor and quickly escaped from her home. She looked around at all the beautiful houses which lined Wisteria Lane. They all looked so perfect from the outside, but within, they were often anything but ideal. Folding her arms across her chest, Bree slowly crossed the street, approaching Lynette's home.

"Hey Bree." Tom answered the door. He was visibly shaken by her appearance, but tried not to make it too obvious. "Come on in." He motioned for her to sit down.  
"Is Lynette around?" She didn't waste any time.

"Yeah, she's um…" he paused, scratching the back of his head,  
"she's upstairs. Hold on, I'll get her."

Bree took a seat on the couch while she waited for her friend. She had alcohol in her system, but was anything but drunk. Her children seemed to assume that every time she had a drink, her goal was to get 'wasted'. However, this was not actually the case. She drank to ease her pain, and now that it didn't seem to be working, she felt somewhat frantic.

Lynette took her time. She still held a grudge toward Bree, and Tom didn't mention the severity of her situation. "Hey." she called from the stairs. Bree didn't bother turning around. "Or you know, you could just not acknowledge me. That works too", she continued, taking a seat next to Bree. She didn't plan on saying much to her neighbor, until she got a good look at her, and saw a few tears slowly running down her cheeks. "Hey, are you crying?" Her voice softened, the pitch higher. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Lynette." Bree took a deep, long breath. Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper.

"No, no, it's okay." Lynette reached out, allowing Bree to find comfort in her embrace. She realized that she hadn't actually been mad at her neighbor, just disappointed. "Come here."

"I'm so sorry…" Bree continued.

"Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry for." The blonde smoothed down her neighbor's hair. "Just try and tell me what happened. Can you do that?" she sounded as if she were talking to a child.

Bree pulled away from Lynette, clumsily dabbing at the remnants of her tears. "I don't what happened. I don't know anything anymore."

Lynette noticed a hint of hysteria in Bree's voice. She gently rubbed Bree's right arm, trying to calm her. "You've been drinking." She was merely informing Bree about what had been happening in her life.

The redhead nodded. "It helped me, Lynette. You have to understand."

"I do… and it's okay." Lynette responded, while Bree looked in the opposite direction.

"But now I just want to stop. I don't want to drink anymore."

"I know." She gently squeezed Bree's hand. "Let me help you." She was relieved to hear her frend admit not only that she had been drinking, but that she wanted to put an end to it.

"You can't help me."

Lynette was a bit surprised with Bree's response. She seemed to have made so much progress. "What? Bree, look at me."

"I said you can't help me." She turned to face Lynette.

"Well, then who can? Do you have someone in mind?"

There was about 15 seconds of awkward silence which was eventually broken by two words.

"My mother?" Bree whispered, almost as if she didn't even want to hear herself speak.


	5. Chapter 6

-1**Chapter 6**

"Your mother?" Lynette was a bit puzzled, for she had never heard Bree give mention to her mother before. "Um, okay. Where does she live?"

Bree gently smiled. "Oh, no. She's long gone."

"How long?" Lynette questioned.

"She passed away when I was a little girl." Bree looked a bit irritated.

"I had no idea..."

"Lynette, I don't need your pity. Of course you had no idea. My own children don't even know. I mean, they're well aware that they don't have a grandmother sending them money on the holidays but that's about it."

"How did she…if you don't mind my asking." Lynette attempted to push a bit further. It was rare for Bree to be so open with her, and she planned on taking full advantage.

"I'd rather not say."

"Okay." the blonde knew her limits.

"You know, I haven't visited her once since the funeral."

"Why not?" Lynette's voice was still.

The redhead shrugged. "I didn't want to admit she was gone, I suppose. I didn't want to let myself believe that I had to grow up without a mother." There was a bit of an awkward silence. "I'm sorry. None of this makes any sense. I don't even know why I asked for her before."

Lynette's eyes shifted downward. "Usually we call out for our mothers when we're most vulnerable…but Bree, she isn't here. Now I'll ask you again. Will you let me help you?" She probed.

"I've been thinking about her a lot lately." She completely avoided Lynette. "While I'm having a drink usually. I wonder if she's watching down on me…and if she is, I can't help but believe that she'd be disappointed in what I've become. I don't want her to blame herself though…" Bree didn't even acknowledge Lynette's existence. She just carried on. "…it isn't her fault that I turned out like this. It isn't her fault." Bree trailed off, showing clear signs of embarrassment.

"How can you say that? If she saw you today, she would be so proud. I mean, you've raised two gorgeous kids-"

"Who both hate me" Bree interrupted.

"Your marriage-"

"Was suffering and now my husband's dead."

Lynette considered adding more to her list of positive things in Bree's life, but was overcome by a sense of overwhelming sadness. Everything that was supposed to bring joy in life seemed to make her friend miserable. "Let me help you." she spoke again.

Bree just looked back at her. "You don't need to waste your time. I appreciate it, though. I do."

"I won't let you down. Even if everything and everyone else does." Her words were powerful. "But you've got to let me."

The redhead cracked a faint smile. "If I start to become a bother just let me go. I'll understand."


End file.
